


But, to me

by tetsubinatu



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-06
Updated: 2009-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-24 23:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetsubinatu/pseuds/tetsubinatu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed. “He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the fighting!”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Merlin is taken prisoner on the battlefield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But, to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ifyouweremine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifyouweremine/gifts).



> This fic was written back in 2009 (and posted on IJ) for ifyouweremine to thank her for the gifs she did of strutting Arthur. I don't write porn one tenth as well as she does so there's not much more than innuendo in here, but she has been kind enough to say that she enjoys the story anyway.

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed. “He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere _near_ the fighting!”

“Nevertheless,” the emissary bowed.

The Prince frowned, taking his time.

“One of your knights stopped us from killing him. He said you would pay ransom for him, that he was valuable to you,” the emissary said drily. “If this is not so we can still kill him.”

Arthur’s lips tightened into a straight line. “How can I be sure that it is indeed Merlin.”

“The prisoner has dark hair, looks underfed and spat in the King’s face,” the emissary elaborated in bored tones. His sharp eyes did not miss the Prince’s quick intake of breath.

“He's not in good condition, then?”

The emissary inclined his head in agreement. “I believe that your knights are caring for him, but there is no permanent damage.”

“Very well. Add him to the prisoner exchange list,” Prince Arthur said decisively and they started to haggle over the details.

* * *

He was walking, at least. Sir Leon offered him an arm when he staggered a little, but Merlin just grinned and shook his head at the taller man. The bruises on his face were startling and by the way he was walking there was more bruising under his clothes.

Arthur had better things to do than greet his disobedient, _expensive_ , useless manservant. Sir Ellis was being carried on a litter by two servants and Sir Carolus was on crutches. He spoke to them both and had them taken to the physician’s tent before having a quiet word with each of the rest of the ransomed knights. They had been treated well. Arthur could respect an enemy like this one and the agreement they had hammered out after the battle would likely stand for many years.

Tonight he was to dine with their new ally, so eventually he had to return to his tent to change. Arthur braced himself as he ducked his head under the tent flap and entered.

His clothes were laid out on the bed. They still smelled of the herbs in which they had been packed - fine clothes which were only to be used after the battles had been fought and won. Or lost. Arthur fingered the velvet collar of his doublet and tried to find the words to use on the penitent, bruised figure standing so quietly in the corner. Eventually he just held out his arms straight from his body and waited for Merlin to come and unlace his armour.

Piece by piece the metal was removed, Merlin smelled of spicy foreign food, of dirt and his own distinctive sweat as he moved in the familiar pattern around Arthur, knowing exactly how each item should be removed and in what order. There was a brief struggle with his gorget, and the rage began to rise in Arthur again. When he was down to his shift and leggings he sat on the side of the bed and watched Merlin test the water in his hip-bath before quickly leaving and returning with another two buckets of hot water to top it up. His face was intent on his job, but there was a strain around his eyes that told Arthur that he was not unaware of the anger building inside his Prince.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he knelt at Arthur’s feet, easing off his boots.

Arthur thought that if he started he might never stop.

“I know,” he said through gritted teeth. He eased into the bath, which felt perfect on his abused muscles. He leaned forward to allow Merlin to scrub his back.

There was a small noise which Arthur knew meant that Merlin was assessing the deep gouges and bruising on his right shoulder. “I’ll put salve on this after your bath,” he said.

“There’s no need,” Arthur replied. “Gaius has been doing that for me for the past three days.”

“I’m here now,” Merlin persisted, the idiot. “I can do it.”

Arthur rose from his bath and allowed Merlin to wrap him in a sheet, to dry him off. “You had better use the bath after I am dressed,” he said. “You clearly need one. I will get Gaius to dress my shoulder when I return.”

He might as well have slapped Merlin, and right now that almost felt good. They didn’t speak as Merlin dressed him and then Arthur began to sift through the papers on the table, looking for the quartermaster’s supplies report. He really needed to get that sorted out before he went to dine with King Aled.

He’d written a page of notes, watching dreamily as Merlin stripped and bathed himself, wincing with every stretch and twist, when Merlin finally finished and wrapped himself in Arthur’s damp, cast-aside towel. There was bruising all over his body, and a large purple bootmark in the center of his back.

“I _told_ you to stay here!”

The words spoke themselves. Arthur hadn’t meant to start this discussion right now. He needed to be over at King Aled’s camp before dusk.

Merlin was still pulling on his breeches - clean ones from his chest, not the ones in which he had been imprisoned - but his hand stilled briefly on his laces before he finished tying them.

“I can’t stay in safety when every other man in camp is out there fighting for Camelot,” he said reasonably.

“Every _soldier_ is out there,” Arthur rebutted. “Not the cooks and the grooms...”

“Most of them go too,” Merlin protested. “Not Fat Arnie, of course, or little Eg, but the rest of them - if they’re young and strong.”

He’d moved to face Arthur, his tunic still in his hands.

“I gave you an order, dammit!” Arthur shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “But you - you couldn’t just do as I say, could you? No - do you even know how much you cost me to get back? Do you? You cost me _three times_ what each knight cost me!”

Merlin gasped. That was more than he could ever expect to earn in his life. He could sell seven children into servitude and never get that much.

“I’m sorry, alright! I didn’t mean to get captured...”

“You nearly got _killed_ , you idiot! If Sir Leon hadn’t spoken for you they would have run you through like the skinny, worthless peasant you are!”

“If I’m so _worthless_ then why did you pay it?” Merlin shot back.

Arthur stared at him. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have,” he said coldly. “But I did. So put on that tunic and come back to King Aled’s camp with me. I’ll need a torch-bearer and serving boy and you might as well be of _some_ use to me.”

* * *

King Aled noticed his servant. Arthur had forgotten that Merlin spat in his face or he wouldn’t have brought him.

“An expensive servant,” the King commented as Merlin poured Arthur’s wine.

Arthur nodded grimly and chewed the spicy meat.

“Fiery,” the King said thoughtfully, and dropped the subject, to Arthur’s relief. It did explain why he had cost so much, though. On the way back to camp, Merlin holding the torch to light Arthur’s path, Arthur looked at the way the torchlight flickered on the bones of Merlin’s face. He didn’t think that Merlin had caught the nuances of that conversation, but he couldn’t be sure.

Merlin himself dragged the topic back into the light as soon as they got back to camp, though. Thank God he had learned enough discretion to wait until then. There was a time when he would not have hesitated to bring it up with every passing trooper for witness.

“They think I’m, I don't know, a whore or something!” he protested as soon as the flap dropped behind them. “The way they _looked_ at me! Like I was your mistress and that was the only thing keeping them polite!”

Arthur had noticed that, too, but he was surprised that Merlin had.

“I paid a Prince’s ransom for you,” he said grimly, dropping to his chair. “There’s nothing else extraordinary about you.”

Merlin frowned. “I don’t look like... do I?” he asked. "I'm a boy."

“You’re pretty enough,” Arthur said carelessly. “It saved your life so stop complaining!”

“Pretty!” Merlin sounded disgusted. “That’s absurd! You mean they really did think that I was...”

Arthur snorted in amusement. “What, hasn’t Gwen told you you’re pretty? Or does she tell you you’re handsome - which you’re not, by the way.”

Merlin seemed lost for words. “Gwen doesn’t! We’re just friends! And I’ve been told often enough that I look odd - big ears, face like a horse, stupid hair. I’m not... _pretty_!”

Arthur grinned. “Fiery, I think he said, actually. That was your fault for spitting on him.”

Merlin made a face, “He was... oh my god! _Oh my god!_ ” He dropped his face into his hands.

“What?” Arthur’s stomach twisted uneasily. 

Merlin looked shocked as he lifted his face to Arthur’s. “He... leaned in really close and I could smell his breath. I just spat at him from instinct, I never thought...” He shivered.

Arthur stiffened in his chair. “He didn’t touch you?” But he knew he hadn’t. Merlin wouldn’t have been so shocked at this moment of realisation if he had.

“No. He had the guards beat me up and locked me up with the knights. I was fine.”

Merlin had sunk to the floor at Arthur’s feet.

“Promise me you won’t go out and fight on the battlefield again,” Arthur said, drawn by some instinct to use this moment of vulnerability. But even now Merlin shook his head.

“If you need me, I’ll fight.”

He would. It was that indomitable will that had drawn Arthur’s respect from the first time they had met. Merlin was truly an appalling servant precisely because he could not or would not bend, but he was also irreplaceable.

“You have to stay alive to repay me your ransom fee,” Arthur argued, but Merlin knew as well as he did that such an amount was impossible to repay. Could never be repaid.

“I’m your servant,” Merlin whispered. “I will do what I need to do to protect you.”

Arthur was fighting a losing battle and he had every reason why he should be winning. “You're an appalling fighter and you serve me _better_ if you don’t get killed or captured.”

Merlin was curling in on himself, but his voice was flatly uncompromising. “I can’t promise what I won’t do.”

Arthur jerked his head in a swift gesture of exasperation. “Next time you might cost more than I can afford,” he said grimly.

Merlin gave no answer and Arthur turned away, moving across to his bed to remove his boots. He didn’t get far before Merlin was there, doing it for him, taking off his fine clothes until he was stripped to the shirt he would sleep in. Merlin found the soft breeches that were comfortable enough for sleeping in and handed them to him.

“Have you ever...?” he asked.

Arthur didn’t know what he was asking. “Ever what,” he said grumpily.

“You said I’m pretty. They all think I’m your mistress. Is that what you want?”

Merlin’s eyes were worried, his mouth slightly open.

“If I want someone, I’m perfectly capable of asking them,” Arthur said brusquely. “Go to bed, Merlin.”

He didn’t want to bend over and put on his sleeping pants right at this instant. He stood there instead, as his manservant puzzled the problem through.

“So you do want me, but you’ve never asked?” he said eventually.

“No of course I don’t. _Go to **bed** , Merlin!_” he said, through the tightness in his throat.

Merlin didn’t go to bed. “Because if you do, that’s fine,” he said slowly. “I can do that.”

Arthur swallowed. “Don’t be foolish,” he said quietly. “We don’t require bed-service in Camelot. Even from idiotically expensive manservants. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I think... I’d like that,” Merlin persisted thoughtfully and Arthur dropped his head into one hand, rubbing his forehead.

“Just go to bed, Merlin. _Please_ ,” he added wearily.

“Alright,” Merlin conceded. “We can talk about it tomorrow.” He finally turned away and Arthur was able to don his sleeping pants. He couldn’t see Merlin’s pallet from his bed but he could hear his breathing, and he listened to the reassuring rhythm for a long time before he finally fell asleep.

* * *

Merlin _was_ pretty and Arthur couldn’t deny that the odd thought had popped into his head now and then while he was wanking. Especially about his mouth. And his neck. And his stupidly long, non-peasant-like fingers. But the thought of doing something about it had never crossed his mind.

“It’s something _boys_ do,” he explained to Merlin over their breakfast porridge, because the the idiot couldn’t let the matter rest but had to bring it up again at the first opportunity. “When they’re young and a cock feels like the most exciting toy ever invented; when the girls aren’t even looking at them yet and patience is something for older folk.

“It’s not something that _men_ do - or at least, not when there’s a willing woman around.”

“King Aled seemed to think,” Merlin said reasonably.

“Yeah well, some men do, but it’s a _weakness_ , you see.”

Merlin looked angry. “So King Aled thinks you’re weak because I’m your mistress?”

“Er, bedwarmer or catamite, not mistress. But yes, that’s one of the reasons your ransom was so high,” Arthur conceded. “But also, we had more of his knights than he had of ours, so he held out for a better exchange rate.”

Merlin looked relieved. “So you didn’t actually _pay_ him that much money for me.”

He would have found out sooner or later, but Arthur had hoped to hold that over his head a little longer. It had just slipped out.

“Not actually, no,” he said, deadpan and Merlin grinned slyly at him.

“So when you were younger it was all right, but not now.”

Arthur shrugged. “I never did when I was younger either. The girls _always_ looked at _me_. Don’t look at me like that,” he added. “I didn’t take nearly as many of them up on their offers as my father did in his day. He was _famous_ for whoring all over the kingdom. Its a wonder I haven’t scores of bastard brothers and sisters popping up everywhere I go.”

Merlin choked and looked shifty.

“What?”

“Er, you do know what they say about the Lady Morgana, don’t you?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped. “ _Who_ says that?”

Merlin chewed stolidly and shrugged. “Everyone. I think the only way that rumour’s going away is if the King gives you permission to marry her.”

It was lucky that Arthur didn’t have any food in his mouth. “Well _that’s_ not going to happen,” he finished up, after a solid five minutes diatribe on the ancestry of rumormongers and the purity of Uther’s relationship with Morgana’s parents.

Merlin just nodded. “That’s what I thought,” he said, reaching for a peach. Arthur let him even though peaches were his favourite, because he looked even more underfed than usual.

“But you want me, right?” he said. God, why did he have to be so _persistent_. The constant drip of water on stone had nothing on Merlin when he had an idea in his head.

“Look, I didn’t really pay anything for you, I’ve never slept with a man and I’m not about to start now,” Arthur said firmly.

Merlin looked at him.

“Whatever King Aled says.”

Merlin sighed.

“Look, you’re loyal to me, right?” Arthur didn’t even wait for the nod, it was so obvious, “And I trust you to be there for me - even when I _don’t want you to be_ ,” he added with a glare, “And if I were to start... bedding you... well, it would all get mixed up and maybe this...whatever... wouldn’t work any more. And I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you, because you didn’t even know it was _possible_ before yesterday! You can’t seriously want... this.” 

He was raving. He was arguing with a stubborn peasant who wasn’t even arguing back! Except that every line of his stupid body was speaking for him. Merlin stood up and began to clear the table with absentminded thoroughness. 

“I think it would work, though,” he said. “And if they already think we are then it isn’t going to harm your reputation any further.”

“Only King Aled...” began Arthur, but of course it wasn’t. Aled’s entire court thought so. God knows what Sir Leon had thought to speak up in the first place. By now - Merlin was right - by now it was an established fact. 

Arthur rubbed his forehead. Yesterday morning he had started the day in possession of a foster sister and a servant. Today he had a bastard sister and a catamite, neither of which was actually true. He paused a moment to think about it. No, definitely not true.

“I need to speak to the Quartermaster,” he said, and left the tent abruptly.

* * *

They were back in Camelot and Arthur _still_ couldn't stop thinking about it. About Merlin. Because he'd always wanted to touch Merlin more than other people. Merlin had always - sparked something in him. Merlin was worth three knights' ransom to him, worth the sneers of a minor King, worth... anything really.

Fiery. That stupid taunt of King Aled's lurked in the recesses of his mind. As if it were some kind of promise. As if it meant something about Merlin that made Arthur's belly coil into desire.

Uther saw the entry on the agreement when they went over the details on his return.

"You can't _possibly_ have paid that much for a servant boy!" he exclaimed, turning an incredulous look on Arthur.

Arthur rolled his eyes and grimaced. "We had captured more of their knights than they had ours, and they were being stubborn. It didn't actually cost us anything - we still had the worth of their treasury in ransoms from them."

"But you know what they'll think," Uther protested.

Arthur looked blank and Uther regarded him thoughtfully. "No," he said consideringly. "You've never been one for the boys, have you?"

Arthur shrugged, but the King was satisfied. "On the whole, not a bad job," he conceded. "But next time, don't ransom a peasant, much less for such a ridiculous amount. It has set a bad precedent and I don't like it."

Arthur muttered apologies and drew a deep breath of gratitude when the interview was over.

Fiery. Merlin was...

Arthur thought with determination about the disrupted training schedule with two senior knights out of action for at least a month.

That night Merlin bathed him again. Arthur had always enjoyed the innocent sensuality of a good scrub on his shoulders. Now it was ruined. With the first touch of Merlin's fingers he'd gone hard as rock.

"Just go away," he snapped irritably. "I'll finish up without you."

"I'll have to come back for the water," Merlin complained. "You can't let it sit there all night going slimy." His fingers had stopped, but they still rested on Arthur's nape. Arthur shrugged them off and Merlin laughed.

"You're thinking about it!" he said triumphantly.

"No I'm not. I've just had a hard day. My father was not pleased about your ransom."

"You knew what I was talking about," Merlin gloated. "You _are_ thinking about it."

"You don't know anything about it," Arthur said dismissively.

Merlin came around to the front, crouching until their eyes were level. "I've been asking around."

Arthur groaned. "My god. Is there anyone in the whole world who is less discreet than you, Merlin?"

"I was discreet! I told Gaius that someone had a go at me while I was imprisoned and he explained it all to me. And then I heard Wulfric in the stables talking and just... encouraged him to keep talking. So I know, now."

"What do you know?" Arthur asked.

Merlin dropped his eyes. "I know what men do with each other. Wulfric says that lots of the knights do it with their squires. Apparently Sir Geraint and Sir Agr.."

"Yes, yes!" Arthur interrupted. "But it's not...well regarded."

Merlin frowned. "Sir Geraint came third in the last tourney. He's got songs about him and everything."

" _I. don't. do. that!_ " Arthur exploded.

There was a long moment of utter silence.

Merlin rocked back on his heels as if he'd been punched. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "I thought. I must have been mistaken. I thought..."

He stood up. "I'm sorry, Arthur," he said on a gasp. "I won't mention it again." His face was devastated. The line of his back, as he walked away, was sharp and his shoulders were hunched against a pain that Arthur could almost feel.

He had his hand on the door-latch when Arthur spoke again, his voice flat. "Merlin. You haven't done anything wrong."

Merlin took his hand off the door and came back to kneel in front of him. "I should have listened to you. I'm sorry. I don't know why I thought I knew better," he said hollowly.

Arthur snorted. "Because you're Merlin. You listen to me about as much as I listen to you."

"Can you just explain," Merlin said. His voice cracked on the final word. "I know I'm missing something. You want me, right?"

Arthur looked away, but it was a reasonable question, under the circumstances. "Yes, Merlin, I do. But I've never slept with a man and I'm not going to start with you."

"You see, that's the part I don't understand," Merlin said. "If you want me, what's so bad about it? You say that it's a weakness, but _why_?"

Arthur struggled for words. "I already paid a Prince's ransom for you! If I were to touch you... God, where would it stop? I'm the Prince, and I can't afford to..."

Merlin looked as if he'd been lit from within. An expression of such joy that it was blinding filled his face as Arthur watched, unable to turn away. "You utter PRAT!" he said and stripped himself naked.

"Get out of that bath and come here and fuck me until your cock drops off," he ordered. "Because you love me, you prat, and if you've already paid a Prince's ransom for me then _what harm can it do_? It's not going away and I love you too!"

Arthur was just mustering up some solid, reasonable arguments against that course of action when Merlin lost patience and joined him in the bath.

King Aled was right. Merlin burned like fire - and it was totally worth it.

.

**Author's Note:**

> The title, as you may have guessed, comes from W.H.Auden's poem _Lullaby_. The first verse of the poem is as follows:
> 
> Lay your sleeping head, my love,  
> Human on my faithless arm;  
> Time and fevers burn away  
> Individual beauty from  
> Thoughtful children, and the grave  
> Proves the child ephemeral:  
> But in my arms till break of day  
> Let the living creature lie,  
> Mortal, guilty, but to me  
> The entirely beautiful.


End file.
